I Won't Let You Fall
by BigRedMachineUK
Summary: She was ready to give up on herself, but one man had to let her know he was not ready to lose her, even if it meant revealing a certain secret he'd kept to himself for years. John Cena/OC. One-shot. Fluffy but contains a mature theme.


_**A/N: Gosh, I get so nervous every time I put up a new story. So I looked through my fics and realized that I've NEVER done one with Mr. Cena as my main character. After listening to Nickelback's "Never Gonna Be Alone", I decided to try my luck and this was the end product. It's a little fluffy towards the end but I hope you guys like it.**_

_**The timeline is circa 2007, a few weeks after WrestleMania 23. (I guess).**_

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><p><em><strong>I Won't Let You Fall<strong>_

Cradling a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in her arms, Cheryl Blake sat in her hotel room, intoxicated and out of her mind. She was fresh off a rare appearance on Monday Night Raw, live from the beautiful city of London, England. But there was nothing beautiful about how she'd been feeling for the past several months.

Cheryl currently hated her life and everything that was in it. Her life was spiraling out of control, unraveling before her very eyes. She lost the Women's title a long time ago and was yet to get it back. It was the umpteenth week in a row that Creative had made her job to some ex-Diva Search slut who couldn't wrestle her way out of a paper bag. Trish Stratigias and Amy Dumas, her two best friends in the world, had departed the company. Nora "Molly Holly" Greenwald and Stacy Keibler left years before. One by one they all departed until Cheryl was the one left to tend to the hapless bunch that called themselves WWE Divas. She was reduced to being a babysitter, a stepping stone for the talentless Barbie dolls who didn't even take the business seriously.

She laughed cynically. How ironic it was that she was griping about being walked over. It wasn't too long ago that she was doing the exact same thing. There was no rule that Cheryl didn't break, no line she didn't toe during her time with the WWE. Her father, Cliff "Blade" Blake, was a wrestling superstar in his hey-day, right up there with Hogan, Andre, Warrior and Randy Savage. Cheryl unashamedly exploited her father's name to speed up her ascent to the big time. She trampled on everyone at developmental that she thought was a threat or standing in the way of her success. She slept with the necessary men, Vince McMahon included. She'd taken steroids for years to keep up with the Joneses, and systematically and cleverly beat each drug test they threw at her. You name it; Cheryl Blake did it. More importantly, she got away with it.

But no one in the industry could deny her immense talent and beauty. The five-foot-six-inch Detroit, Michigan native with the wavy dark hair, olive green eyes and a body to kill for walked into the WWE in 2002 and tore up the Women's division with her eclectic style of wrestling and remarkable microphone skills. Her feuds with Trish and Lita were touted as one of the best rivalries in WWE history, and she'd been hailed as one of the greatest female competitors of all time. Now the great Cheryl Blake, five-time Women's champion, three-time WrestleMania headliner and participant and winner of the first-ever women's ladder match, could not even buy a victory now. She'd been turned into a joke. Once upon a time she was on top of the world. Now here she was, thirty-one years old, single and directionless. Long gone were the days when she used to be idolized in the WWE.

However, her current professional plight was a bed of roses compared to her personal life. A notorious singleton and flirt, Cheryl was no stranger to breaking up relationships. She'd been on her fourth run as Women's Champion when she started sleeping with then-World Heavyweight Champion Triple H, known as Paul Levesque. And to think Stephanie McMahon considered her to be a friend. Despite witnessing the uproar and the backlash that nearly destroyed Amy Dumas after her shenanigans with Adam Copeland, Cheryl went ahead with the affair and only stopped when Stephanie threatened to blow the whistle on the whole thing. Paul dumped her immediately. The scandal was hidden from the public but not the locker room, and Cheryl couldn't escape the taunts of her colleagues, or worse, the McMahon heiress, who promptly reminded her just who was in charge of Creative. Her career hasn't been the same since.

A lone tear slipped out of her eye as she wondered how she had let things go so downhill for her. She was stuck in a horrible nightmare. Her life had taken this route that she saw no way back from, no matter how hard she looked. She no longer had family to turn to in this tough time. Just a year ago her father was convicted of the murder of his wife, her beloved mother, Geraldine. He was executed by lethal injection. The tragedy made headline news everywhere, and Cheryl had to put up with the whispering behind her back, the pitiful glances sent her way everywhere she went.

It was all too much. No human being could withstand this kind of pressure. Cheryl Blake was not as strong as she looked. She was not the self-assured, indestructible badass who kicked ass and took names night after night in that ring. She was a fraud. She'd spent years lying to all those girls that looked up to her and now she was paying for it. She was lonely. She was depressed. Alcohol was her best friend. But this time, not even this massive bottle of Jack could numb the pain, or cover up the gaping hole in her soul that just seemed to widen with each passing day. Her past sins had re-emerged and were haunting her, torturing her until she decided she'd had enough.

The deathly silence permeating her hotel room only served to vivify the despondent thoughts that ran riot in her head. Candice, her roommate had gone out clubbing and wouldn't be back till morning. Good. Candice did not need to be here when Cheryl did what she had in mind.

Cheryl seized a sheet of paper from the table beside her and tried to write a letter explaining her actions, but she could barely hold on to the pen. A few failed attempts later she shoved the table away in frustration. She didn't need the stupid note anyway. She was tired and fed up and wanted to get everything over with. Getting to her feet, she staggered towards the balcony. Outside was freezing, the land below her a vast blanket of snow, but she could not feel the bitter cold. She felt nothing anymore.

Swigging out of her bottle again, she surveyed the vast landscape before her. They were in the United Kingdom on their annual European tour, and in all honesty she could not have found a better place to end it all; in London, the venue of Cheryl's debut at the Insurrextion pay-per-view in 2002. She brushed her fingers over her wrestling attire, which she still had on. This was a good way to go, perfectly outfitted for the occasion. It was a pity she wouldn't get to go out on top. But then again, how many people did? She didn't deserve to anyway, not after everything she had done.

Running a hand through her hair, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then tilted her head back as the cold breeze caressed her face. Standing here, she'd never been more certain of anything. Sensing the final seconds ticking, she felt overwhelmingly at peace. Slowly, she climbed up onto the ledge and looked down. She had to be at least fourteen stories high up. There was no way she would survive the fall. That was what she wanted.

She thought of the few friends she was leaving behind. She would no longer be dragging them down with her. Tears trickled down her cheeks; tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of relief that all the pain and humiliation and suffering she'd endured for so many years were finally coming to an end.

Then she thought of her mother and she smiled, taking one final deep breath. Finally, Cheryl Blake was going home.

_So long, world. It was one hell of a ride._

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><p>"Man, there's no alcohol in this bar," Randy Orton complained as he burrowed through the contents of the mini-fridge. He emerged with a couple of cartons of orange juice. "John! Did you ask for OJ?"<p>

His roommate, John Cena did not respond, neither did he move from his spot on the floor in front of Randy's bed, seemingly absorbed in whatever he was watching. "What the hell's so interesting that you can't answer me?" Randy asked as he peered at the TV. "Is that _soccer_?"

John shrugged, not taking his eyes off the screen. "This is England, of course it's soccer. It's pretty good game though, check it out. Manchester United versus Arsenal."

"_Who_?" Randy asked, flopping down onto the bed. "Man, if you want to watch soccer, go to MVP's room." He snatched the remote to change the channel. John finally showed some sign of life. "The hell? I was watching that!"

Randy ignored him, kicking back while he flipped the channels. John rolled his eyes and headed into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

His mind flitted back to tonight's show. Like always whenever they had a show abroad, the atmosphere was electric. There weren't that many "Cena sucks" chants or booing, which was highly refreshing. A man could only feign imperviousness for so long. Regardless of the backlash he endured, he never got tired of meeting the fans wherever the Superstars traveled, and he still couldn't get over the rabid fan base the WWE had overseas. He was proud to be a part of it, more than his critics and naysayers could ever understand.

Randy's booming cackle sounded from inside the bedroom. Maybe he'd finally found an entertaining program. John stepped out of the bathroom to join his friend, but stopped short when something caught his eye as he passed the glass door that led to the balcony.

Cheryl Blake stood outside on her own balcony. What the hell was she doing outside in this cold? He watched, puzzled as she ran her hand through her jet-black hair, clearly in tears. It was obvious that she didn't know she was being watched. She was still in her in-ring attire, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. She squared her shoulders and threw her head back, like she was taking a deep breath…

Then she climbed up the ledge, standing straight, a look of chilling determination etched on her face...

The realization of what was about to happen hit John like a speeding truck. Instinct and adrenaline took over and he raced out the door. Randy glanced up in surprise as he whizzed past him.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" he asked the empty room.

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><p>John reached Cheryl and Candice's hotel room in record time. He pushed the door and was relieved to find it was open. He hissed as the cold air swept through his body. Then he saw the open glass door, saw her peering over the ledge.<p>

"Cheryl, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, shocked.

She looked over her shoulder, and a small gasp of shock escaped John's lips. The sight before him was nothing short of dejected with a generous dose of pathetic. Her dark hair was wild and unkempt, her nose bright red from the cold. Her tear-filled bloodshot eyes were narrowed at him, irritated that her privacy was invaded. The frustration, resentment and self-pity he'd been seeing in those eyes for months were prevalent.

However, this was the first time he was seeing 'suicidal'.

As one of her close friends John knew how badly things had been going for her. Ever since she dropped the Women's title to Mickie James, Cheryl had become, for lack of a better term, a jobber. She was being forced to watch her legend get picked apart and she lashed out at everyone, including him - John couldn't count how many fights and arguments he'd gotten into with her. From the drunken tirades to the suspensions and fines, he'd watched them all get slapped on Cheryl Blake. It was well-known that she pushed the envelope and people's buttons. But he never thought the consequences would drive her to this.

He took a step forward. "Cher-"

"Stay back!" she spat. "Don't come any closer!"

"If this is your idea of a joke, it ain't funny-"

"Yeah, that's right. I'm a _joke_! I've been a joke for as long as I can _fucking_ remember!" Tipping her head back, she gulped down some more of her booze.

Shaking his head, he held out his hand to her. "Hey, I ain't playin', woman. Come on, give me your hand. I'll bring you down."

Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. "You come any closer and I'll jump!"

"Bullshit," John stated matter-of-factly. "If you really wanted to jump, you'd have done it already."

Cheryl was incensed. "Fuck you, Cena!" she snapped, stabbing a finger in his direction. "Just because I…I _talk_ to you don't mean you know everything that's going through my head!"

"Oh, I got a pretty good idea," John retorted. "You're up there, drunk as a skunk and freezing your ass off, about to make the biggest mistake of your life!"

As if on their own accord, her teeth started to chatter, but she quickly pursed her lips tightly. "Go back to your room, John," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Can't do that, baby. I'm involved now. I've been standing here for five minutes and done nothing. So basically I'm so deep into this I'll be tagged as an accessory if something happened."

"Then leave!"

"I told you, I can't. If you jump, I'll come after you."

A bitter, derisive chuckle escaped Cheryl's lips. "Oh, _suuuure_. John Cena, WWE's poster boy turned to road kill because of some washed-up 'Diva'." She made air quotes at the last word. "That's sure to make front page news." Rolling her eyes, she took another large, sloppy gulp of whiskey.

John knew how she got when she was intoxicated. Humoring her was usually the best solution to calm her down, but because of this potential disaster he had to act very fast indeed. "Actually I kinda fancy my chances of survival with all that snow covering the road," he said, taking another casual step closer. "It's probably the cold that will kill me. It's about ten degrees Fahrenheit right now, you know that? You got balls standing here wearing just your ring attire." His crystal-blue eyes swept over her body. "Not that I'm complainin'."

At his words, Cheryl felt the blush creeping into her cheeks. He was flirting with her, like he always did, and she felt a pang of resentment, hating him for being so blind. "Forget it, Cena. This has been coming for a long time and you know it." She turned away, adding in a soft, defeated whisper, "You can't save me. No one can."

John sucked in a sharp breath as she swayed precariously on the ledge. She was borderline wasted, making things all the more volatile. One wrong move and she was history. "Look, Cher," he said. "You can't just give up. Not like this."

Cheryl shrugged helplessly. "What's the point? It's obvious my services are no longer required. No one gives a damn anymore, not even the fans. I'm doing everybody a favor."

John scoffed in disbelief. "Are you serious? If the fans hate you, what about _me_?" He pointed at himself. "_I'm_ the one getting booed night in night out, and probably will for the rest of my career. There's nothing I can do about it but keep working my ass off like I have ever since I entered this business. You of all people should know not to give a fuck about what anyone says! We've talked about this! We got our shitty days, we got our good days. But we got no other choice but to deal with both of 'em. Trust me; you won't be doing anybody any favors by jumping off that ledge. The last thing anyone wants to do is scrape brain matter off the road in the middle of the night."

He was getting closer and closer to her. A few more steps and he would reach her. "And no matter what you've done, the fans would not want you to go this way. And neither would I."

There was something about the way he spoke that caused her resolve to falter. "Why do you give a damn about me after everything I've put you through?" she asked, gazing at him.

"Because you're my friend, and believe it or not, I'm your biggest fan," he said softly. His blue eyes welled up as they met hers. "So yeah, I do give a damn. I refuse to stand here and watch you do this. So do me and my conscience a favor, okay? Get down from there." He stretched out his hand again. "You don't want to do this, Cher," he whispered. "Please. Just get down."

Cheryl stared long and hard at John. Her gaze switched from his face, to his hand, and back to his face. Suddenly she burst into tears, her legs giving out from underneath her. John rushed forward and caught her, then carried her back into her room and sat down on her bed. Pulling her into his lap, he held her tightly, gently rocking her back and forth. The sounds of her cries caused him to squeeze his eyes shut, trying without success to stop his tears from falling.

"How could you?" John whispered into her hair, his voice breaking in anguish. "How could you be so selfish? Do you know what this would have done to everyone? Randy, Adam, Candice, your fans…do you know what this would have done to _me_?"

"I can't take it anymore," Cheryl sobbed, burying her face into his chest. "I'm so fucking tired of everything. I just wanted someone to notice me, to love me again…"

John glanced at her, puzzled. "You got friends, Cher! We all love you. _I_ love you."

Her expression was forlorn as she sniffled. "I…I know…but it's just not the way I want you to."

It was as if time had stood still. Cheryl's features sagged with shock and embarrassment as the gravity of what she had just said hit her. John stared at her, his heart pounding as his mind tried to process what her words were implying. Blushing, she turned away, but John quickly caught her chin with his finger. "Baby, look at me," he cajoled her. "This is me. Talk to me."

When she reluctantly faced him, he saw shame and anxiety in her green irises, but it was the quiet sincerity in them that shone through. She may have been drinking, but in that moment she had never looked more sober. Taking a deep breath, she began her confession. "I…I'm in love with you, John," she murmured, and she vaguely heard him inhale sharply. "I have been for a while now. But I never had the guts to tell you. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. Besides, I saw how you were with Torrie and Candice and even Trish when she was around…as far as I was concerned I didn't stand a chance. I didn't expect to. You took so much crap from me, hell, I was just surprised you wanted _anything_ to do with me, let alone be with me."

Seeing the look on his face, she ducked her head in shame and ran her hand through her hair. "Wow. Um…" Words failed her, and tears filled her eyes. She'd been right all along. He'd never seen her as anything more than a friend. God, she should have just kept her mouth shut. She started to pull away, desperate to get off his lap, to get out of the room. But John's hold around her tightened. She dared to meet his gaze again, puzzled at his behavior.

"You once asked me what my biggest regret was." He found his voice at last, and it was thick with emotion. "Still wanna know?"

"What?" Until now, she hadn't realized how close their faces were.

Blue eyes bored into green ones. "Not doing this a long time ago."

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

Cheryl was certain now that she had indeed died. This was a dream. It had to be. John Cena, the man she'd loved for so long, the man that always seemed so close yet so out of reach, was kissing her. Gripping his broad shoulders, she clung to him, moaning softly. Their lips melted together in such a blissfully familiar way, as though this kiss was not their first. The intensity of the kiss, the gentle urgency of his tongue caressing her bottom lip sent tremors down her spine. John's large hand was around her waist, holding her protectively like precious cargo. The other was in her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her better. He poured everything he was feeling into this intimate moment. She tasted like whiskey but the flavor only made her lips more irresistible, making him fall harder for her.

He remembered when they first met - the night before WrestleMania 19. He was a rising star on SmackDown. She was the top Diva on Raw and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. When their friendship began, John always knew that he would one day tell Cheryl how he felt about her. But he never imagined it would be in a situation like this. He knew now that he couldn't stay silent any longer, not when he'd come so close to losing her forever.

They finally broke apart, breathless, and John wrapped his arms around her, gently pressing his forehead against hers. "Cher…I've always loved you. I loved you the moment you walked into my life four years ago. With a five-minute conversation I found someone who got me, understood me more than anyone ever could. Yeah, so we fight all the time and we have our issues or whatever, but I'd rather have that than lose you altogether. If you jumped off that ledge tonight, I'd have followed you."

"Stop saying that!" Cheryl reprimanded him, shaking her head vigorously.

His smile was bittersweet as he tucked a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ears. "You don't understand how much you mean to me, do you? I'd do _anything_ for you. I'd get my ass kicked for you. I'd take a bullet for you. If I lost you tonight, it would have broken me. I don't ever want to go through this again, you hear me? I need you Cheryl, more than you can imagine."

His eyes shone with unshed tears, and Cheryl was overcome with guilt. It was a pity that this had to happen for them to reveal their true feelings for each other. Still, Cheryl knew she would be dumb not to seize this rare chance to finally be with the love of her life. Shifting her body so that she straddled John's lap, she cupped his face in both hands and looked deep into his eyes. "Kiss me again. Prove to me that I'm not dreaming."

"Can't get enough of me already, huh?" John smirked, and Cheryl slapped his arm. "Shut up."

Their laughter died down, and John gently pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly this time. "I love you," he whispered, then chuckled, looking away for a second. When he met her gaze again, she saw his words, his heart, in his eyes. "God, it feels so good to finally say that to you."

"It feels better to hear it from you," replied Cheryl, kissing him tenderly. The feel and taste of his lips was something she could definitely get used to. Just like that, her will to stay alive, to pick herself up and turn her life around was reignited.

"Stay with me," she pleaded. "I don't want to be alone."

John shook his head, pulling her body even closer to his. "You'll never be alone, baby. I'll never leave you. I promise."

And with those words, they shared another heartfelt kiss. Cheryl's near-death experience had turned a tragedy into a new lease on life, kick-starting a long journey towards her recovery and a brand-new relationship with John, who planned to stay by her side every step of the way.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Fluffy, fluff, fluff. Please review! **_


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